Have Hope: Podcasts, Protests, and suicide prevention

“Sometimes you pick the fight, sometimes the fight picks you…” - Colonel Clarence J. Evans. 

Col. Evans was my uncle and also my mentor. He taught me how to throw a proper punch at Stuttgart Air Force Base in Germany when I was 10. In time, Uncle Clarence would instruct me in far more important fighting skills, such as how to fight for a cause. Over the past 25 years, I have been involved in many fights for various causes. There have been some victories, more losses, and a few crucial lessons learned along the way.

These past few weeks, I’ve been deep in my feels listening to a heartbreaking podcast about my beloved Camp Shane, while navigating losing efforts trying to help school districts keep suicide prevention programs alive this coming academic year. 

This past May, our federal government eliminated 100% of federal funding for mental health and suicide prevention programs in K-12 schools when Linda McMahon indefinitely suspended the SAFR ACT while she examines if depression screenings are a covert vehicle for “woke” ideology     

Since June, the Hope For Us Network has had about 95% of school-based education commitments from September to May 2026 postponed or cancelled outright. 

I've spent the better part of this summer on Zooms and evening in-person sit-downs, supporting educators and parent groups, trying to convince decision makers to keep these programs going. 

Most of this is in school districts; the Network has no relationship beyond being connected to an engaged parent. Reviving the majority of the Network’s commitments is highly unlikely because we were largely working in “hostile territory.” 

The best way I could describe what that means is that some adults have a sort of NIMBY rationale. It views that having a suicide prevention program in a school is an admission that there’s something wrong with “them”... I mean, their kids. 

These cuts are a perfect blame-free pretext to abandon the programs. It has always been a fight to bring suicide prevention into community spaces, especially for youth. 

Col. Evans guided me on how to take up my first fight for a ‘cause’ as a teenager when I felt “duped” by a US Congressman. 

Youth Ministry - Habitat For Humanity - Escanaba, Michigan 2002

TL: DR: I got super involved in youth ministry as a teenager. The director of the OLB-St. Norbert crew, Dr. Peg Hanrahan, nominated me for this thing called the National Youth Leaders Conference. In February 2003, I went to Washington, D.C., for five days of conferences, national monument tours, and a photo opportunity with our local Congressperson. Mine was Mark Kirk from Illinois' 10th District.

I wanted to discuss the possibility of invading Iraq. Kirk spoke to me honestly and wasn't patronizing. He expressed his opposition to unnecessary wars, and I appreciated his straightforwardness. I decided to volunteer for his re-election campaign.

Just weeks later, Kirk aligned with the majority of the House and Senate in support of the invasion. I wasn’t disillusioned—at 18, I understood the fuckery of politics. I was simply disappointed that a man could voice high ideals one moment and then compromise his integrity the next. I expected him to be better than his actions showed.

Unc laughed when I mentioned writing to Kirk, but suggested trying to unseat him instead. In the fall of 2004, I volunteered as a door knocker for challenger Dan Seals, who got crushed by Kirk. In 2006, I worked as a paid precinct captain for Seals in his second campaign, but he lost again. Kirk only gave up his congressional seat when he ran and won Obama's vacated Senate seat in 2009.

NYLC Feb 2003 - White House Goofin

I never once considered getting involved in politics as a career. At the end of high school, I had been so invested in youth ministry that to the shock of my closest friends, I seriously considered going into a Catholic seminary instead of college. 

I might have followed through with that until I had a conflict with certain church leaders from a certain mega church in Barrington, IL, about my stance on “gays,” which would lead me to a permanent break with religious institutions of any faith. 

Breaking away from following a faith-based career at 19 opened my eyes to making a long-term commitment to Camp Shane. Which brings me to that heartbreaking podcast I mentioned earlier. 

Camp Shane Color War

If you know me personally or professionally, it’s almost a 100% certainty that I have mentioned Camp Shane, a fat camp in upstate New York. 

It was that big of an impact on the course of my life. I still attribute my time at Shane to saving, changing, and enriching my life, but not because of results on a scale. 

Premiering at the Tribeca Film Festival this year and currently floating in the top 20 podcasts on iHeart Radio is a production titled Camp SHAME. 

The production outlines the camp's history spanning over 50 years, from its beginnings to the sudden closure in summer 2021. This can be hard to digest, especially for those who associate Shane with the many positive experiences shared each summer.

The podcast takes a bird's-eye approach to Camp's daily life and culture as it focuses on the owners of the camp and behaviors that would escalate from duplicitous to unethical, and eventually criminal.  

This isn't a nostalgic look at sleepaway or fat camps like the Disney movie "Heavyweights," which was inspired by Camp Shane. Instead, it blends true crime with commentary on the toxic relationship between capitalism and body image.

I recorded several hours over multiple sessions doing a pretty intensive deep dive of my time at Shane from Day 1, year 1 as a camper in 2001, all the way to my bitter last day as a staffer in 2009. 

Morning Stretch

I figured I would be a few soundbites among many since the rails didn't really fall off on the Camp until right after my era of staff and campers left, but to my surprise, I’m featured quite a bit in 2 of 8 episodes. 

By the end of my second summer as a counselor, I vowed to make Shane my life, and I structured my future around such a commitment. I wanted to help give kids what I got out of the camp as a camper. 

The counselors I had as a camper, and the people I had the honor of working alongside, all wanted every kid who walked through the gates of Shane to embrace that they were more than a number on a scale. 

It was almost a cliché how many Shaners vowed they were gonna make a book, documentary, or write a movie about Shane. Even when Kelsey the Shaner, who produced Camp Shame, contacted me, I agreed more out of amusement to see if she would follow through, as I had these conversations to contribute and speak on Shane without exaggeration at least a dozen times. 

Camp Shane Staff Bowling Party 07

For all the hours I recorded, there might be a total of 15-20 minutes of total audio used, and something the podcast doesn't get to reflect is just how much of a positive impact so many amazing human beings had on legitimately hundreds of kids. 

One day, we will see a dedicated production that shares all the magic and joy that was found within the gates in Ferndale, NY, DESPITE the fuckery of the ownership.

HOWEVER: I commend the production for putting a spotlight on the truth because the most bitter pill anyone can swallow is hard truths about people and things that are personally dear to ourselves. 

Real harm happened at Camp Shane because of a critical failure of leadership that was warned and challenged for decades. I was in a long line of people who desperately wanted to protect and maintain the space where so much magic happened. 

We don’t have to surrender our memories to acknowledge others' hurt, but we surrender our integrity and anything good we draw from Shane if we deny, reject, or ignore the reality for those who became directly victimized, be they camper or counselor. 

Year 1 Shaner - Weight Loss Record - Camper of the Year 2001

By the end of 2008, I realized I needed more official authority to make changes at Camp. Despite having veteran stripes, I was still considered general staff. I had planned to pursue further education and experience to climb the leadership ladder, but that vision fell apart one afternoon in the summer of 2009. For the details, you'll need to listen to the podcast bc it still stings to think about.

Camp Shane was a gigantic learning tree for me. I learned the valuable difference between being a boss and a leader. And among other things, the futility of incremental change when fuckery is happening from “the top” of an organization. 

I had a falling out with my uncle in the spring of 2003, directly due to the Iraq invasion. Every few months, I would give him a call. It was the same phone call where I bitched about Congressman Kirk, just weeks after “Shock and Awe.” 

I was expressing my frustration over the invasion. At 18, I ranted about how not only was POTUS wrong, but maybe even the soldiers were wrong since we didn't have a draft, so this wasn't like soldiers HAD to fight. That got Unc heated, and he asked if I saw him as being wrong for following orders? And I couldn't help but blurt out, “Nuremberg,” to which Col. Evans hung up on me, and we didn't talk for about two years. 

Our relationship remained strained throughout my 20s as I continued to get more and more involved in local and large-scale social causes. It’s a real challenge to effectively debate geopolitics with a person who, at times, had a higher security clearance than the POTUS. 

Col. Evans once told me that challenging people in authority is hard, but challenging people in authority while you also have authority is even harder because you're rocking the same boat that you benefit from, and that’s why you usually don't see whistleblowers from the upper echelons. 

That nugget of knowledge wouldn't be relevant until some years later, when I was headlong into making Hope For The Day my 3rd lifelong commitment. A literal vow I made face-to-face with someone in the summer of 2013. 

I refer to that organization these days as ‘ole country’ and so it shall be henceforth. 

In 2013, I joined an effort to build something that would turn out to be a force of positive impact on suicide prevention. I coined a term for it, Proactive Suicide Prevention. 

HFTD - American Hospital Assoc 2017

TLDR: There might have been smoke all along, but Fuckery became evident and problematic somewhere around 2016, and harm became evident by 2020. It was confronted, and the result was my unceremonious, forced exit in January 2021, but the perpetrator(s) and enablers of the fuckery were expelled a few painful months later as a result of some brave, wonderful souls. 

Was it victory? The current org exists in a seemingly ethical state, which is why I’m so vague on reliving every chapter and verse of the fuckery. 

It should be clear that while I was one of three people in leadership of the organization, and the one who started the fight. I was not a lone actor. Whatever positive results of fighting the fuckery were the result of a dozen plus brave human beings putting up their job security and emotional well-being to speak truth to authority and support others who shared their experiences. 

There was a steep cost to all of us in every emotional, physical, professional, and material facet. 

This was once a pioneering young Non-profit that was garnering national and international esteem. We launched the world’s first coffee shop supporting suicide prevention. We had an education curriculum so innovative that we could deliver it to licensed clinicians and improve their skill sets. There was even a gosh darn network TV Show inked!

This is the first time I have publicly detailed anything about leaving ‘ole country’. 

We all could have kept our mouths shut. Me especially, I could easily just go along, sweep every small concern under the rug. We were all on a rocketship, but if you do stay silent long enough about issues you have the power to do something about, you eventually become an enabler or worse, a party to the fuckery. 

The last time I was in the same room with Uncle Clarence was February 2015. I met him at the Pentagon, we had lunch, and he gave me a private tour of some cool levels. He had retired from the military by that time, but did the same job on the Joint Chiefs of Staff as a consultant. He also fell in love with being a ref for youth football in Virginia, and it had become a passion and a new commitment in his life.  

Unc & Nephew - Pentagon - 2015

In June 2020, I first sought Col. Evans’s insight on what to do about the festering fuckery boiling at ole country. I was deeply concerned about taking any kind of action that might “go public,” which could threaten the outside perception of the entire organization and all the good people dedicated to it. Unc and I had several brief chats and texts because Col. Evans never ever ‘told me what to do’, he would just give nudges.  

On July 2nd, Clarence Evans entered the Pentagon through their space-age Covid protocols, and despite feeling no symptoms whatsoever, some sort of device flagged him, and he was immediately taken to Walter Reed. His wife and family did not hear from him or anyone for three weeks until July 22, 2020, when someone from Walter Reed began contacting Next of Kin. 

The last text I have from Uncle Clarence is in regard to navigating ole country, and he said: “Sometimes you pick the fight, sometimes the fight picks you, Nephew.”     

The Hope For Us Network was launched in the summer of 2021. It was a move to get back to basics, to focus on the core fight in suicide prevention. To close the gap between the onset of mental health challenges and proper medical care. A gap that exists as silence and concealment driven by stigma. 

The Network In Action

I haven't made a vow to commit my life to running the Network, but the effort continues. I currently dedicate my time to CASA, an organization that trains volunteers to monitor the well-being of children in foster care.But I can’t ignore that a continual root of all our challenges stems from authorities beyond the efforts of non-government organizations. 

Right now, there are a lot of fights worthy of picking and many more that are calling upon all of us. Some of these fights are new(ish), some have been festering for generations. 

Taking up a fight for a cause is scary. The stakes are always high when you stick your neck out. The costs aren't just losing figuratively, and success is uncertain, no matter how righteous your position. 

But inaction is always lethal, with the only caveat being that you may be insulated enough that the lethal doesn't impact you personally.

Having Hope isn't about never losing. It's about remembering that victory only ever comes from trying. 

The best lesson I've ever learned about fighting for a cause is that one person can start the fight and lead the effort, but in every successful instance, it’s only TOGETHER we can achieve victory. 

HAVE HOPE

PS:

Love Ya Shaners!

Love Ya Hope Squad!

Miss Ya Unc!   

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